


We Were Smiling To Be Free

by 221blackandwhitestripes



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arkham Asylum, Boys Kissing, But It's Gotham, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Could Be Canon, Deleted Scenes, Episode: s04e13 A Beautiful Darkness, Episode: s04e14 Reunion, First Kiss, I don't know why I wrote this, I suck at tagging, It Could, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Pining!Oswald, Riddler!Ed, Riddles, Season/Series 04, This is a little messed up, What Was I Thinking?, i can't tell anymore, it's 2am and i'm tired, kinda angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-13 15:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14115318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221blackandwhitestripes/pseuds/221blackandwhitestripes
Summary: The Riddler visits Oswald to tell him he has a plan to set him free. Oswald's going to need more than that to believe him.Now with Part 2 and 3!





	1. A Friend In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I wrote this, it just sort of happened while I was thinking about things. Anywho, I hope it's good 'cause I have no idea. I can't tell when it's my work, y'know? I've sort of projected some of my issues onto Oswald because Gotham isn't extremely clear about what goes on in his head. So it's basically what I'd imagine I'd be like if I was in Arkham. That sounds darker than it should, but trust me, it's all fine. This is intended as a sort of deleted scene set before the scene in episode 13 when Ed visits Oswald (And leaves the penguin, OH MY GAWD!
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy.
> 
> ps.  
> I know I'm usually okay with spelling and grammar, but it's literally 2am here in NZ and I'm posting this now because I'm impatient and I love attention and waking up to Kudos.

“Mr Cobblepot, you have a visitor.” The words echoed through Oswald’s mind like a distant cry, something bright at the end of the tunnelling abyss calling him to awaken from sleep.

“Sorry?” He prompted, not sure he’d heard correctly. Not daring to _hope_.

“You have a visitor,” The guard repeated, rolling his eyes a little. “Come with me.”

Letting out a brief laugh, Oswald got to his feet at once, hobbling along behind the guard.

 _A visitor, a visitor, **you have a visitor**_ **,** the words repeated themselves like a chorus, morphing and reshaping in his mind, pitch rising and falling. 

His heart beat out a staccato in his chest, his fingertips tingling with a mix of dread and anticipation as he waited to answer whomever his visitor might be.

He didn’t dare believe it was _him_. But Oswald could dream.

“Here we are,” The guard half-heartedly gestured to the door as if he didn’t really care whether or not Oswald went inside before turning as if to go.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Oswald asked, sure that it was against protocol to abandon your post during visits, especially one involving a criminal of such high calibre, not to mention importance.

“Dough is dough,” The man shrugged, patting his breast-pocket in reference to what Oswald supposed was a large wad of cash. “I’m to leave you alone for at least fifteen minutes. I get extra if I let you stay longer.”

Someone had _payed_ to be alone with him? Surely not. 

Oswald could only think of one man who would, but he couldn’t possibly-

“He’s all yours, Mr Nygma!” The guard called, shoving Oswald inside before turning tail. _Mr. Nygma_. It pricked like a taunting thorn on a rose, cruel in all its captivating beauty, a siren call to Oswald’s soul. Knowing he shouldn’t touch, yet touch was all he craved.

“Ed?” He asked cautiously, shuffling farther into the room. He looked up and around at the high ceiling and steel bars, wrapping his arms around himself. The guard hadn’t restrained him, not even bothering with cuffs. It made Oswald uneasy to be allowed the luxury of some semblance of freedom when he knew it would all be torn away in a matter of minutes.

Something in the corner of Oswald’s eye shifted and Oswald took a gasping breath. “Ed? Is that you?”

“Hello, Oswald,” Came Ed’s purring voice, the tenors of his speech curling like the end of a cat’s tail. “Did you miss me?” The man finally came into view, dressed to the nines in a bright green shimmering suit, bowler hat in place as he chuckled at Oswald’s expression. 

He looked more like a neon-coloured fever dream than the man that had once stood by his side and vowed to do him anything. Oswald’s heart panged in his chest. He’d lost that man a long time ago, there was no use getting upset about it now.

“Is… Is this real?” Oswald breathed, hesitant to admit his tenuous grasp on reality, but he _needed_ to know. The days in Arkham had blurred together, memories mixed and jumbled like a fitful nightmare. And that was just when he was awake. Who was he to question the presence of angelic light in a hellhole overrun with demons?

“Well, that depends,” Ed chuckled, before breaking out into full-bellied laughter at whatever bewildered look had passed over Oswald’s face.

“Ed, I don’t underst-”

“I’m not Ed!” Edward snapped, eyes suddenly dark as his laughter abruptly stopped. “Not _Ed,_ or _Edward_ or _Eddie_. So, **don’t** call me that.”

“You’re _him_ , aren’t you?” Oswald gasped, instinctively stepping back, letting his confidence slip in such an openly vulnerable way that he may as well have bared his neck and asked for a bite. “The other one.” 

“Yes!” Ed hissed in delight, a grin stretching his mouth as he waved his arms theatrically. “I’m _The Riddler_.”

“W-where’s Ed?” He asked hurriedly, urging himself not to retreat further.

“Oh, you know,” Edward waved his hands around ambiguously. “Don’t worry, though. I’m sure he’s just sleeping.” Ed pressed his palms together, resting his head on them in a mimicry of the act. “It’s rather boring actually.”

“So, why are _you_ here?” Oswald demanded, stepping forward in an attempt to gain some ground. It was important that he held all the power he could possibly carry, he couldn’t get beaten down by Ed. Not again.

 _Never again_.

“As I said before, Ozzie, I’m _bored_ ,” Ed moaned the last word, digging his fingers into his eyes behind his glasses like he wanted to claw them out, laughing delightedly when Oswald winced.

“So what?” Oswald spat. He needed control in this situation, he couldn’t keep slipping up like that. Ed had shot him, he deserved every ounce of hatred ever possessed in Oswald’s body and more.

“So… I wanted to come have a little fun!” Edward sang, waving his index fingers like he was conducting an orchestra.

“And, what exactly does this _fun_ entail, Ed?” Oswald snapped. Ed ignored him.

“I can be cracked or broken but never fixed. Brute force can’t touch me, but wit and intelligence is the way to beat me. What am I?” Ed rattled off, looking at Oswald with an almost _lascivious_ smile.

Shit, he needed to get his head in the game.

Oswald studied the blank walls around him, looking for a clue. There was nothing but concrete and bars, and the equally stony silence slinking coldly between them.

“I don’t kn-” Oswald began, but cut himself off as his mind alighted on something. Perhaps it was the conversation itself, or something pertaining to that-

Oh. _Oh!_

“I _knew_ you’d get it!” Ed exclaimed with a delighted giggle, clapping his hands together.

Cracked, not fixed, wit and intelligence: _code_. Ed wanted them to speak in code.

“Uhm. How should we proceed?”Oswald asked, looking around nervously as he cleared his throat. There had to be a valid reason if Ed needed them to talk in code, and Oswald wasn’t about to give the game away without express permission to do so.

“You can see me in water, but I never get wet. What am I?” Edward posed the question, smiling and watching Oswald avidly from behind his glasses.

“A moment,’ Oswald held up a finger, preemptively scolding Ed in anticipation should he get impatient. He repeated the riddle in his head.

_You can see me in water, but I never get wet. What am I?_

Oh! A reflection! 

Oswald turned back to Ed, pleased to have solved the riddle but otherwise confused at what he was getting at.

“Could you elaborate?” He asked, trying not to sneer. It would be best not to piss Ed off now he was _somewhat_ his old self again.

“The answer doesn’t show you what others see, rather, it shows you the…” Ed trailed off, indicating that Oswald should finish the sentence himself.

Reflections. Mirror images. Turned around. Flipped images. Opposites. _Opposite!_

“Oh,” Oswald conceded to give Edward a smile. “That could work.”

“Of course it will work, I came up with it myself!” Ed preened, placing his hand on his chest.

“Wow, someone has certainly forgotten to take their narcissism pills.” Oswald snarked.

Ed’s back tensed, his eyes flashing darkly for a moment before he seemed to come back to himself and relax slightly. “I see we’ve already begun.”

Oswald merely shrugged, neither confirming nor denying.

“Well, then,” Edward walked to the table at the centre of the room, scraping his chair noisily as he pulled it out and settled into it. Tilting his head, Oswald shuffled over and followed suit. 

“How’s the treatment been?” Ed asked, eyes searching Oswald’s face with disturbing fascination. Oswald had a strange feeling of empathy for the dead bodies Ed had examined on the slab back at the GCPD.

“It’s been _great_. Really. The other inmates _love_ me. It’s like I’m at home here,” Oswald rolled his eyes

“Yeah, new rule; no sarcasm. It’s too complicated to decipher what meaning you wish to convey,” Ed told him irritably.

“Too complicated?” Oswald asked mockingly. “Or too difficult?” Ed’s glare said enough.

“Moving along,” Edward continued, snapping from furious back to animatedly cheerful too quick for Oswald to keep up. “Let’s get down to more important things, like you telling me how I can ensure your continued incarceration here as long as possible.”

Fury jolted down Oswald's spine, his hands clenching around the edge of the table as he seethed in a breath, preparing himself for a scorching monologue that would tear Ed to the _ground_.

But then Ed raised his eyebrows, and Oswald was brought back to himself.

Opposites. He meant the opposite. Which could only mean…

“Wait, you want me to _stay_ here?” Oswald asked astonishedly, knowing Ed understood as the corner of his mouth lifted. _You want me to escape?_

“Of course!” Edward said, seeming to think it was obvious. “Why else would I come here?”

 _To kill me,_ Oswald instantly thought, but didn’t let the words fall from his lips.

“When?” He asked instead, the need to escape itching in his bones like the many scrabbling legs of a thousand lice.

“Until I am measured, I am not known. Yet how you miss me, When I have flown. What am I?” Ed asked. _Time_.

“What about it?” Oswald prompted.

“I need some.” Ed admitted, wrinkling his nose in distaste at such an admission.

“Why?”

“ _Ed’s_ going to be very upset when he finds out I’ve gone walkabout again.” Edward sneered. “He gets so _defencive_. Just because I used the opportunity last time to try and kill his girl, doesn’t mean going to do it _again_.”

“Wait, who?” Oswald asked, waving dismissively through the end of Ed’s sentence as something molten and dangerous leached into his stomach.

“Oh, you have _nothing_ to worry about, I can assure you,” Ed answered adamantly, placating Oswald with an outstretched hand. “Another mindless infatuation. Pathetic, really. But I have reason to believe I can use it to my advantage, and that’s all that really matters now.’

“...Okay,” Oswald accepted slowly, allowing himself to simmer down.

“Anyway, it means that when I next see you, it will be on his terms,” Ed sighed.

“How soon can you get here?” Oswald asked, already impatient to see him again.

“When the day after tomorrow is yesterday, today will be as far from Wednesday as today was from Wednesday when the day before yesterday was tomorrow. What is the day after this day?” Edward asked.

“What?” Oswald asked, not even attempting to decipher that nonsense.

“When the day after tomorrow is yesterday, today will be-” Ed began to repeat.

“No, I just- _no_. I won’t get it no matter how many times you say it,” Oswald told him.

“Fine,” Ed conceded with a shrug, seemingly unbothered by Oswald’s lack of enthusiasm. “Thursday. By the latest.” Ed glanced at his watch. “Now, I really should be going. He’s bound to wake up soon and whilst I’d love to tease him about missing out on this little meeting, I’m afraid it wouldn’t be very conducive to our situation.” 

Oswald swallowed. He wasn’t ready to leave, to go back to the nightmarish smiles and the high strung screams that pierced his ears a broke his mind every moment within these walls, awake or asleep, always near, encroaching upon him.

“Ed,” The man stopped and turned, meeting Oswald’s eye calmly. “Why all of this,” Oswald waved a hand to indicate all the obscurity and extra measures Edward had taken to disguise their conversation.

Not saying a word, Ed simply beckoned him to kneel down, both of them doing so and looking under the table. Ed pointed to a small microphone hidden in the shadows of the table, recognisable only once he’d noticed it. Nodding his understanding, Oswald struggled back up to his feet, ignoring the jolt of pained protest his leg gave him.

“Oh, and Oswald,” Ed prompted, Oswald nodding at him to continue. “Don’t let Ed know I was here. He’s suspicious enough as it is.”

“Right,” Oswald replied, throat dry. Back to the shadows, he would go. They called to him like Hellhounds, reminding him that even now he wasn’t safe from them. Their teeth were still waiting for his flesh, patient and quiet, but there.

 _Stall, stall, stall,_ his mind insisted, a treacherous slope but one Oswald couldn’t help climbing down.

“H-how do I know this is real. You could just be playing me, waiting for an opportunity to kill me while I have little to no defences,” He argued, not unreasonably.

Ed tilted his head as if conceding the point. He slowly made his way toward Oswald, moving around the table to stand closer than he had before.

“How about,” Ed searched his eyes, a hint of caution hiding behind his glasses. “A little incentive?” Ed moved further into Oswald’s space.

Oswald scrutinized him, not sure what Ed was getting at until the last moment when Edward pressed their lips together. Torn between recoiling in shock and melting into the touch, Oswald stood stock still, grounded by fear and indecision.

Ed finally pulled back, only to remove his glasses and say: “With a touch of reassurance,”

Ed’s hand moved to Oswald's shoulder, pulling him in with a hidden strength as he moulded their lips together. And Oswald let him. He couldn’t help it. There was something sweet and familiar about burning himself twice on the same flickering flame, especially when this flame burnt so bright.

“And, lastly,” Ed gasped as he pulled back, his hand sliding up to Oswald’s nape, thumb ghosting along his Adam's apple as he swallowed. “A sprinkle of trust,”

Ed pulled him in with the force of an avalanche, lips and tongue hungry as they melded to Oswald’s. Ed tasted like jasmine tea and fresh ginger, sharp and sweet. A stark contrast to the shadows lurking behind Oswald’s shoulders, relentlessly seeping from the walls and creeping in.

Ed eventually let go, a hand brushing through Oswald’s prison-filthy hair once, before stepping away.

“It’ll be okay,” Ed told him earnestly, meeting Oswald’s gaze. “I _promise_.” Ed checked his watch. “Oh _dear_ , I really have to go.” He looked up at Oswald hurriedly. “Please be safe, Oswald.” Then he turned and all but fled, his long legs carrying him away like he was never there.

Oswald wrapped his arms around himself as he shivered. The way Edward had kissed him, the howling laughter and blood-curdling screams of the asylum sinking through the walls all the while, niggled at something in his mind, an incessant, burrowing worm he couldn’t pin down. And soon he’d have to venture back into the shadow with it at play, another torment in this endless freaking sideshow.

Oh, but of _course,_ the solution came to Oswald like a thrill, his heart swelling as he remembered.

An old saying he’d used to lure a man into the darkness. But it hadn’t worked because he wasn’t the right one.

_Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light._

Oswald had finally found his friend.

“Thursday,” He whispered to himself reassuringly. _“Thursday.”_

And it couldn’t come soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay!  
> If you think I should write a second part to this, please let me know because this only took me around three hours for me to complete which I think is a personal record, so hopefully continuing won't be difficult. For now, I'll keep it as complete, though.
> 
> Title comes for Beauty On The Breeze by Seafret


	2. A Spark Of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ed's empty shell visits Oswald, leaving him wondering if the real Edward was ever there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone seemed to like the last part and wanted it to be continued, so here you go! I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing!

Oswald was barely hanging on by a thread. Arkham was tearing at his soul, piercing his well-constructed walls like needles through his skin. He couldn’t escape the black blood water swirling down the drains of his mind, leaving him feeling tenuous and high-strung. He was lost in here, his brain as trapped as his body, all of him itching to be set free.

Jerome’s torments were getting under his skin, the man’s clawed hands digging deep into Oswald’s skull as he searched for the opportunity to break and shatter what was there. Jerome’s eyes forever followed him, his words leaking inside Oswald’s cell through the night, crazed laughter swallowing up the light in a cell darkened without the sun.

He’d never needed a hand to hold this much in his life.

 _Thursday,_ Oswald repeated to himself, straining to remember the comforting tones of Ed’s voice as he’d spoken it. The word echoed and bounced off the walls of his mind, crashing and warping, but Oswald welcomed the pain. It was better than those howling wolves, smelling blood and sniffing around outside.

He had to make it to Thursday, had to carry on and keep his head down. It wouldn’t do to drown in Arkham’s horrors when he was so close to escaping.

He swam through black water days, latching onto memories to keep him afloat. Martin’s intelligent scheming and tiny hugs. His mother’s tea and warm baths. And Ed.

Ed with his spontaneous laughter and manic gestures. Ed with his snow-white grins and glinting, knife-edge eyes. Ed with his twisting wordplay and machine speed declarations. Ed with his soft lips and warm tongue, drawing Oswald out of the dark and lighting him up in flames.

He kept Oswald’s mind alive, haunting his dreams. Memories and fantasies twisted behind Oswald’s eyelids through the night until they were completely intertwined and inseparable from each other. Falling asleep to be pulled by Edward’s firm hand into another adventure, from shooting wars with bullets spraying like fireworks to singing in Ed’s old eastside apartment, chopsticks clinking against glasses and plates as they beat out the rhythm of their hearts.

Edward’s eyes in the gloom, warm and bright as they met his. His voice like hot cocoa on a cold day as he spoke, “How about a little incentive?” Oswald being pulled into his arms, kissed, again and again, waking to the phantom taste of jasmine and fresh ginger on his tongue.

But, as was usual in a shallow grave like Arkham, there were nights where sleep didn’t come at all. 

Tonight was one of those nights.

Oswald had been humiliated in a pathetic pantomime, laughed at and ridiculed. All he’d wanted was for it to stop. Later, back in his cell with the concrete wall seeping cold into his back and his eyes trained on the door, Oswald shivered through his tears as he tried to keep his hold on reality. Outside of Arkham’s cold, brick cage, the well-oiled machine of Gotham city continued to work. He had to remember what that had felt like, the taste of death in Gotham’s air, the poisoned love of a heartless city pumping through his veins. It would be his again, soon, he was sure of it.

The door opened and Oswald’s mind screamed.

“No more, no more!” He protested, searching for a shield against the onslaught of Jerome’s endless games and finding his pillow instead.

“You have a visitor,” The bored voice of a guard explained, his words causing Oswald to drop his pillow in shock.

“R-really?” He asked, shakingly leveraging himself up by the wall to come to a stand.

“Yep,” The guard nodded, taking Oswald by the shoulder to lead him out.

“W-what day is it?” Oswald asked breathlessly, heart hammering in his chest as the progressed down the hall.

“Thursday.” 

It was like all Oswald’s prayers had been answered. He smiled, chuckling to himself as he shuffled along, ignoring the guard’s questioning glance.

Reaching the visitation cell, Oswald blanketed out his expression. Through the crisscrossed wire of the cell, he could make out Ed’s green-tinged profile. He wore the same suit as the last time but had still managed to make himself look completely different. Hair dishevelled, tie loose and skewed, he was a completely different man to the one who had sat before him less than a week ago.

God, had it only been that long? 

“So, you gonna go in or what?” The guard prompted, narrowing his eyes at him sternly.

Nodding quietly, Oswald pushed open the door, stepping through to stop a couple feet in front of the table.

“Hello, Oswald,” Ed greeted. Oswald was shocked by the tenor of his voice. Not only did it lack Edward’s charismatic confidence, it seemed to go beyond that, like the sound of hollowed wood. He smiled, and that was hollow too, empty of the chaotic glee Oswald had seen only days before. 

Was _He_ still in there? Or had he been blackhole swallowed by the emptiness Oswald could see in Ed’s eyes? Why was he even here? 

“I see Arkham’s treating you well.” He laughed, another hollow sound from a hollow, hollow man.

“I take it you’re here to gloat,” Oswald supposed, looking over the man’s form as he slumped back in his chair.

“You are correct!” Edward confirmed, a strange echo of the days when he’d look at Oswald with pride gleaming in his eyes, endlessly pleased by Oswald’s wit.

Oswald smiled humorlessly, nodding to himself. This couldn’t be _him_ , not the man Oswald knew. Just the empty, degrading shell. “And why not?” Oswald pursed his lips. “I am in an insane asylum,” He laughed self deprecatingly as he finally acknowledged his situation out loud, “Being pummeled by lunatics.”

Ed gave a squeaky, wheezing laugh that didn’t reach his soulless brown eyes in the slightest.

“Then again, at least I’m not a _moron_ ,” Oswald raised his eyebrows mockingly, daring _Ed_ to contradict him.

Ed visibly swallowed, his tight smile faltering for a moment before he strained to put it back in place.

“I may not be the man I once was.” He gritted out through his still-smiling teeth. “But I have many things that you do not have.” He leaned back in his chair, listing things off his fingers. “A purpose. _Friends_. You have neither of those.” 

_Wow, Ed, two whole things! And it just so happens that I **do** have both of those things, and I’m looking at them right now._

Ed’s lips twitched between a smile and a frown as if he couldn’t decide which expression to settle on. “And I wanted you to see that,” he finished. His lips continued to twitch like something was trying to escape Ed’s mind and bare itself for Oswald to see. Oswald couldn’t help the little spark of hope it ignited in his chest as he considered the possibility that it was _him_ trying to get out.

“No.” Oswald moved closer to the table determinedly, staring Ed down. “No. I know you.” He searched for the face, _his_ face, inside of Ed’s blank, devoid features. “There’s something else going on.” He told him, hoping that clueing Ed in would help him to see, help him to remember the last time he’d been here. “Something _else_ brought you here.”

 _Please remember,_ he silently begged. _Please set me free._

Ed remained silent, his eyes growing distant as he seemed to look right through Oswald like he wasn’t even there. 

“There’s nothing else,” Ed claimed, his voice coming out in a high-pitched mimicry of innocence that sounded all too strained. “I wanted you to see how well I am doing. And I wanted to see how miserable you are. Mission accomplished.” He chuckled, but it lacked the glee or thrilling darkness that tended to draw Oswald in like gravity.

“Ed,” Oswald leaned over the table, palms pressed to the cheap wood. “I’m going to be out of here soon.” _Whether or not you help me,_ he left unsaid. “And, once I am,” Oswald allowed a dark smile to creep over his face, letting out all his frustration at Ed’s emotionless gaze, “I. Am. Going. To _wipe_ that **smile** off your face,” He laughed sarcastically, letting loose the savagery inside his mind. “Preferably with a chainsaw.”

“Now, how are you going to do that?” Ed asked sarcastically, but his stumbling tongue and nervous smile betrayed an unease that satisfied Oswald to the core. “You have no friends, no one to help you escape. You are utterly alone.” He said, his voice cracking like he was struggling to hold something back. 

_Just let go, **Ed**!_ He wanted to scream. _Just give in._

“Goodbye, Oswald.” Ed dismissed, tapping the table twice with his fingers before turning to leave.

“Sorry if I don’t put to much _stock_ in the opinions of **simpletons!** ” Oswald yelled as he hobbled after him, stopping to yell through the door when it closed between them. 

Furious breaths stuttered from Oswald’s lungs as he gritted his teeth. The other Edward, he’d _promised_ to be here, to help him. But he hadn’t come.

 _That **liar!**_

Oswald turned abruptly, ready to find something to take his aggression out on.

_That smarmy, manipulative, self righteous, narcissistic-_

Oswald’s rant stopped in its track as he finally noticed the small object that sat innocuously on the edge of the table. Stepping forward, he saw that it was an origami penguin, startlingly similar to the one Ed had given him back when Oswald had visited just before freeing him.

He grabbed it with stumbling fingers and let it unfold, recognizing it as Ed’s visitor pass before turning it over.

“I’m held captive all day, my brilliance locked away.” He read aloud. “This prison must be broken. The key…” A smile crept to the corners of his mouth as he read the last line. “My name which must be spoken.” Laughing breathily, Oswald fought the tears from his eyes as he addressed the letter. “You’re still in there.” He whispered fiercely, beginning to chuckle louder. “That’s why you came. You’re still in there. And you’re going to help me find a way out of here.” He smiled, running his fingers over the letters reverently. 

“I knew you wouldn’t leave me.”

Hope sparked fiercely in Oswald’s chest, setting a fire that warmed him to his core, bringing his soul out of the dark abyss and into the light of the sun. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking and don't worry, that's not the end! I'm going to write a third and final part to round this thing off. It might be delayed because of Easter break, but I promise it will be up by next Thursday (or I really really hope so)! It will also include a more happy reunion (aka: including kissing) so there's that to look forward to!


	3. A Name To Be Whispered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oswald knows its only a matter of time until he'll be set free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Final chapter! I also managed to finish it before I went away, so there's no delay to worry about! I look forward to seeing all your comments and Kudos when I come back. (Also, what'd y'all think about the latest episode?) . I've also been working on another short fic which is nearly finished, so stay tuned for that. And, of course, I'm working on two longer fics behind the scenes. If you ask nicely, I'll be happy to spoil a lil bit of it for you in the comments ;-) Anyway, enjoy!

Oswald could barely contain his excitement. Anticipation itched incessantly beneath his skin, cloying at him all hours of the day, refusing to be ignored. Oswald didn’t mind one bit. It was a hot shower compared to the dank swamp he’d wading through in Arkham so far. He was still soaked in water, but he was warm and rejuvenated, not weighed down by scum and dirt like he had been in the past.

Reclining back on his tiny prison cot, Oswald stared at the ceiling, not seeing the white tiles but rather envisioning Ed instead. Ed was coming for him, he was sure this time. Coming to set Oswald free.

Oswald had already sent him instructions, disguising it as an innocent letter detailing his desire for renewed friendship. Oswald could still remember how it went: 

_Dear Ed,_

_Please hear me out. Bring your open mind and open heart, if I may ask. Ed, you once meant very much to me. To my mind, I also meant a lot to you. Arkham has been difficult; I’ve had to rethink my life. So I am writing you today. I want to apologize from the bottom of my heart and ask you… Can we be friends again? Set aside our differences. You know this would mean a lot to me and would be good for you as well. Free us both from the hatred that has consumed us._

_Yours,_

_Oswald_

The first line of every sentence read out a hidden message: _Please bring Ed to Arkham so I can set you free._

Code. 

Oswald chuckled to himself as he thought about it. He knew Ed would appreciate the sentiment.

“Wakey, wakey!” A harsh call interrupted Oswald’s thoughts as it echoed down the hallway. “It’s time for breakfast everybody!” 

A group of guards came into view, escorting inmates out of their cells in small groups of three or four before leading them down the corridor.

“Sorry, no breakfast for you, Cobblepot,” A guard strode up to his door and began to unlock it, the fluorescent lights bouncing off his dark skin. “Dr Katz wants to see you.” Sighing, Oswald got to his feet, allowing the guard to place his hand on his shoulder with only an eye-roll in protest. Even so, Oswald’s mood couldn’t be spoiled. He was so close to getting out of here, he could taste it. It was only a matter of time before Ed (the real one, not that empty shell Oswald had seen earlier) read his letter and came to see him. Then, Oswald would set him free, and be freed in return.

“Here you are,” The guard dismissed, pushing him inside Dr Katz’s office like he couldn’t care less. Oswald rolled his eyes again, brushing off his uniform as if the guard’s behaviour had left a stain.

“Ah, Oswald!” Dr Katz greeted, looking up from his notes as if he was _surprised_ to see him. “Please, take a seat.” 

Nodding with mocking agreement, Oswald sat down in the chair in front of the desk, smiling bitterly as Dr Katz took a gulp of his tea.

“So, Oswald, how are you feeling? I’m glad you came to see me today.” _Again, who invited whom?_

“I’m very well, Doctor. And yourself?” Oswald asked politely, his lips twitching uncontrollably. It was just _so_ easy to play this man, with his greying hair and rubish suits and toothy smiles.

“I’m good. I was just thinking about your progress so far, here at Arkham,” The man looked over Oswald like a computer scanner. Oswald tasted bitterness on his tongue, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

“And how do you think my _progress_ ,” Oswald spat the word, enjoying Katz’s flinch, “has been going so far? _Doctor?_ ”

“Well, yes, I- um,” Dr Katz struggled to compose himself, clearing his throat. “I do believe that you have changed remarkably. You are going along with group therapy sessions, participating in activities, showing no signs of violent behaviour, as far as I’m aware.”

 _Ha_ , if only he knew.

“So, I guess my question is, Mr Cobblepot, how do _you_ feel?” Dr Katz peered at him seriously.

“Oh, I’m feeling superb, Doctor,” Oswald began, smiling a little as an idea crept into his mind. “Especially recently. I believe you know I’ve had a couple of visits from my dear friend, Mr Nygma.”

“Yes,” Dr Katz nodded thoughtfully, looking down and double checking his notes. “I do believe you are correct. Tell me, how did they go?”

“Oh, _wonderfully_ , Doctor,” Oswald gushed, nodding his head emphatically. “In fact, I think it’s worked wonders to help me with my treatment.”

“Good, good,” Dr Katz smiled, the warmth of it not reaching his eyes.

“And I think you’ll understand, then,” Oswald continued, “When I ask you to help me with something regarding Edward.” 

“What is it?” Dr Katz asked, noticeably eager to get dirt on one of his most notorious patients.

“Well, you see,” Oswald leaned forward and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “My friend Ed is thinking of visiting here again. I just think it would be nice if you came and got me yourself, next time he’s here. Just to reassure me that everything's alright. You know how much I care for poor, dear Ed.”

“Mmm,” Dr Katz hummed noncommittally.

“And in return, I’ll give you something that _you_ want.” Oswald continued, smiling inwardly as he saw the Doctor’s eyes alight. “Just name your price.”

Now, it wouldn’t do to put into words what it was that Dr Katz asked him for, but it’s safe to say that Oswald was not in the least bit surprised.

“Deal!” Oswald exclaimed, taking the Doctor’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “You won’t regret this decision.”

Dr. Katz, with two matching pink spots sitting rosily on his cheeks, merely nodded. “You may go have breakfast with the others.”

“Certainly,” Oswald grinned, allowing the guard who stepped inside to turn him around and escort him down Arkham’s long, narrow corridors. He’d managed to get what he wanted, and he hadn’t had to tell a single lie to do it.

Oswald breezed through the service line, accepting the leftover breakfast foods onto his plate before sitting down at a corner table. He was halfway through his over-cooked oatmeal, wrinkling his nose at the taste (just as he’d told Salvatore Maroni all those years ago, Oswald didn’t _care for_ oatmeal), when none other than Jerome plonked himself on the other side of the table.

“Hiya, Pengy,” He greeted, his permanently upturned lips spreading into an even wider smile. “Still here, I see.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Oswald spat, sick and tired of Jerome and his manipulative games.

“Guess that little plan of yours didn’t work out so well, huh?” Jerome chuckled, dipping a gloved finger in Oswald’s pulpy orange juice and swirling it around. 

“That is where you’re wrong, _friend_ ,” Oswald hissed, glaring up at Jerome’s grinning face. “Believe me when I say, I’ll be out of here by the end of the week.”

And, of course, he was right.

It was only two days later when Dr Katz, with his frantic steps and heavy breaths, announced himself at Oswald’s door, opening it with his key.

“Mr Nygma is here, Oswald,” Dr Katz reported. “But I’m afraid he isn’t here for a visit. He claims he is here to volunteer as a patient. Being insane and all that,” Dr Katz laughed nervously, wringing his hands.

“Don’t worry, Doctor, everything will be fine,” Oswald consoled him, standing up from his perch on the bed. “And, since you didn’t forget your side of our _deal_ , I promise I won’t forget mine.”

“T-thank you, Mr Cobblepot,” He stuttered, retreating shame-faced. Oswald nodded to him, swinging out of his cell without a care, limping down the hallway. Luckily, he’d been escorted that way so many times, he didn’t have to worry about remembering it and his mind had the chance to focus on more important things.

Like Edward’s very distinctive voice, echoing down the hallway.

Oswald hobbled along even faster, straining his ears in order to catch Ed’s words.

“Ugh, this again.” He sounded distressed and tired, and Oswald had just enough focus in him to be concerned before reclaiming his previous thought processes of _Ed, Ed, Ed, Ed, Ed..._

“Two needles. Half of Mississippi, who cares?” Oswald had the feeling that he was listening to only half a conversation because nothing Ed had just said made any sense. It didn’t matter though, because, as Oswald pressed the button that released the door, Ed’s entire frame swung around to face him.

“I knew you’d come” Oswald laughed breathily, stuck in a daze, his hands clasping together to control their shaking. “I _knew_ you’d understand my letter.” Ed looked on in confusion.

“How did you know I’d be he-” Ed’s face fell. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m not talking to you Ed,” Oswald shook his head, sniffing. A ripple of mania had overcome his body, shaking him with a hysteria he’d never felt so strongly in his life. For the first time, he didn’t feel like a flightless bird anymore. No, Oswald had _wings._ “I’m talking to _him_.” To emphasize his point, he pointed in Ed’s direction, knowing that _he_ was somewhere around, watching, _knowing_ , listening. He giggled, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. “He read my letter!”

Ed’s gaze moved to Oswald’s left, brows furrowed and mouth open with a mix of what could only be shock and confusion. The situation suddenly seemed to dawn on him ( _God_ , he was slow), Ed rising from his chair as he cried gravelly “No! I came here to save _Lee_.”

Oswald ignored him, not caring about whatever lies the real Ed had spun to get himself here. “He read my letter!” He repeated ecstatically. The fact that this precarious plan had worked was just… God, Oswald felt _alive_.

“You’re- You’re _wrong!_ I am Ed! Edward Nygma, that is it! Lee believes in me, she sees me for who I am.” Ed yelled, becoming increasingly frazzled, and it satisfied Oswald to the core to see something more than an endless abyss in Ed’s eyes. He was already changing, Oswald just had to give him the final push.

“But I see _him_ , **ED!** ” Oswald shouted.

“No.” Ed shook his head, voice breathy, gravelly. Oswald watched as he turned and snatched a pen, starting to scrawl something hurriedly that Oswald couldn’t see. Oswald hurried forward, his leg protesting at the sudden jolt, but it didn’t matter when Oswald was so close to ascension he could taste it. Oswald turned Ed around, pressing him desperately against the table (an act he’d definitely envisioned before, but never in _this_ context).

“Lee Thompkins may have made Ed strong, _but I see the other you_ ,” He whispered it like a harsh secret, hands fisting in Ed’s shirt, clawing and digging in search of the man beneath the flesh _(I see the **real** you). _“The one whose name I wouldn’t speak.” Oswald’s voice was shaking, and so were his hands, and his eyes inexplicably filled with tears as he gazed up at the man he now knew he still loved. “But, because he has earned it,” Oswald smiled breathlessly, “And because I need him, I’m saying it now.”

Edwards shocked and fearful expression abruptly morphed into something equating outright horror, his fingers scrabbling at the sleeves of Oswald’s uniform as he begged. “No! Please! Please, no!”

“I. Need. You,” Oswald declared firmly, looking past Ed’s terrified expression and into the eyes of the man he knew. 

_“Riddler.”_

Edward suddenly lunged at Oswald, grasping one of his cheeks in a harsh embrace, glaring down at him with a heat Oswald had almost forgotten had existed. And, for once, Oswald actually believed that Ed might just snap his neck, and he’d die in the arms of the man he loved, once and for all. A sob escaped his chest, but he didn’t look away, vowing in his head to watch every second of it.

Instead, he saw the eyes of a broken man being cleared away, to be replaced with the confident clarity that Oswald knew so well. Gasping and smiling, caught in a daze, he had no prior warning before Ed pulled him in by the hand on his cheek, turning their heads so their mouths fit together with perfect precision. 

Oswald couldn’t find it in himself to be embarrassed by the breathy moan that escaped his throat, not when Ed chased it down with his tongue, licking into his mouth with and stroking slickly. Oswald had seen Ed spin wonders with his tongue, endless riddles and wordplay, always quick and striking, and to have all that power caressing _inside him_ , Oswald very nearly went spiralling into an oblivion.

Gently, Ed eased off, their foreheads pressed together as he looked down and caught Oswald’s eye.

“I missed you,” Oswald confessed with a whisper, still shivering and trembling under the onslaught of emotion he’d experienced.

“I missed you, too,” Ed whispered back, his characteristically sly smile spreading across his lips as he traced Oswald cheekbone with his thumb. He slowly let go, turning to place his pen on the desk behind him.

“A-and,” Oswald continued before he could stop himself, cringing inwardly as Edward turned back and regarded him with a question in his eyes. “And… I still love you.”

Edward was silent for a long moment, in which Oswald felt a deep hole drill down inside him that soon filled up with liquid dread. But, when Ed spoke, all that disappeared, Oswald destroyed by the words he’d longed to hear.

“They say love conquers all. With you by my side, I like the sound of that.” Edward said seriously, looking him in the eye. It was the closest to a declaration of love Oswald had heard since ‘I’d do anything for you’, and Oswald was happy to accept it for what it was.

“Now,” Ed adjusted his glasses, righting them so they sat straight. “Shall we get to work?”

A burst of laughter escaped him, so extreme he couldn’t hope to hold it back but, by his luck, Ed soon joined him, his rumbling chuckles turning to high-pitched giggles as he strode forward and swept Oswald up in his arms. Ed kissed him fiercely, lifting Oswald up and spinning him. Oswald squawked at the indignity, of course, but didn’t really mind when Ed continued to hold him up, arms firmly wrapped around his waist.

“I think you and me, Oswald,” Ed gasped, a trace of manic delight still swimming in his eyes, “Are going to _make_ this city.” Oswald sighed happily.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done! Thank you so much for reading this all the way through. Also, thank you to all the people who commented encouraging me to continue, it gave me the push I needed to get this done. I hope you enjoyed it. If you liked this, I recommend you read my other fics which are all written in a similar style. Thanks again! :-)


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